


Sweet Dreams

by IllusionaryEnnui



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllusionaryEnnui/pseuds/IllusionaryEnnui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun's blaze burns through dancing hearts. The heat of fire and obsession, these will drive a person mad. Even in slumber, we are not immune to passion's call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams

**Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)**

The sun's blaze burns through dancing hearts. The heat of fire and obsession, these will drive a person mad. Even in slumber, we are not immune to passion's call. Sebastian x F!Hawke (One-Shot).

* * *

_This fan fiction might contain spoilers, canon and also non-canon endeavours and history. When this portion takes place is completely speculative, but assume that it occurs sometime before the final quest, The Last Straw, roughly a day or so up to a week before the horrific event. It more or less a completely non-canon work depicting a few moments between frustrated Prince Sebastian Vael and a dream-spooked female mage Hawke._

  


* * *

Author: Illusionary Ennui

Disclaimer: If it's not in the Dragon Age games, codex entries, or the wiki, it's mine. All else, hail to Bioware. I also lay no claim to the song by the same title, Eurythmics, that shares some relation to the overall endeavour.

Chapter Word Count: 5,428 (so far)

Chapter Rating: M/E

Chapter Warnings: Fluff, Romance, Non-Canon, and NSFW fun...

Beta: Lywinis

Edited: 06.08.2011 - Minor wording update.

* * *

**Sweet Dreams**

_Woken from a dream_

_Promises never realized_

_Seek them once again_

Mid-spring's heat washed over Kirkwall, leaving its citizens panting in the humid atmosphere. Hawke ranked among them, fanning herself with another copy of Anders's bloody manifesto. The man had shoved it into her hands as she barrelled out the door of her estate, lying to him as she pushed past him. She was in no mood for the rebellious mage, even if they shared some sympathies for the cause as an apostate herself. It was simply too hot for arguing over something so controversial or troubling. Especially, it was more so when her itinerant mind directed its thoughts elsewhere...

The Chantry's grand door creaked in protest as she squeezed through the cracked-open entryway. A multitude of harmonic voices filled the great hall, the Chant wafting through the heavy, cloying air. Her practiced ear picked out the telling brogue from amongst those gathered, keeping her own soprano low and quiet. His voice alone made her long for him, wanting to hear him utter her name over and over again. Banishing the immoral thought searing across her mind, she crept along the wall, making her way up the side staircase leading up to the overlooking balcony above.

Catching sharp blue eyes, the mage shook her head in fitting shame when she heard Sebastian Vael falter, his focus distracted. She avoided that piercing gaze, resolved not to meet it - she had never lied to him, only never told him all the truth within her heart.

She listened to the brogue that re-joined the Chant without another pause, wary that the prince had been careful to cover his mistake.

Lulled by the song, Hawke settled on a pew set against the wall beneath an open window. Rolling heat and the scents of apple and cherry blossoms drifted through the wide expanse, windblown petals of white and stained red floating up onto the sill. Fading sunlight dappled streaks across her flushed cheeks, filtered through the high foliage outside. Very few moments passed before she succumbed to the oppressing warmth and sweet blossoms. A deep, dream-filled sleep overcame her...

* * *

The heir of Starkhaven watched the devout and lost souls seeking solace in faith disperse from the Chantry, their random and varied discussions not an interest to him. Iron hinges protested as the final straggler exited the Chantry and the silent sisters scattered about to douse the now unnecessary candlelight before making their rounds to bed. Waiting until the last sister finished her duties, Sebastian took leave of his place on the dais after remembering to return the great leather book of the Chant of Light to its pedestal behind him.

Assured that all the sisters had taken to their beds, the rogue crept up the staircase, following Hawke's previous progress. Sebastian offered a muted word of thanks to the Maker that he had forgone his armour for services, relishing in the unheard footsteps of his passing. He suppressed a small chuckle when he found the mage fast asleep on the bench, her head tilted back and her small mouth parted. She did not stir as he approached nor did she awaken at his light touch.

What could she be doing here, he wondered, easing himself next to her. Maker, she was stunning - the moonlight shrouded her face in variegated shadow and transformed her hair a dark and silvery iron gray, but her simple beauty remained. His eyes wandered over her petite frame, appreciating the deep plunge of her chemise that offered a generous hint of rounded flesh between the loose lacings.

Why did she come here, oblivious as she set his heart racing and blood afire?

A bold hand brushed a fallen petal from her cheek, noticing that the soft texture of the blossom felt not unlike her skin. That same hand strayed into her hair, the once-silken strands tangling around his fingers. Panic reared as she shifted, her slumber requiring an unconscious change. He froze, her body brushing his side.

"Please... don't go..." she mumbled, sleep making her voice groggy and lethargic. "I need you..."

His thumb caressed her trembling lips, fantasizing about their taste. Screwing his courage, he pressed a kiss to her half-open mouth, the lips pliant beneath his. A pleasant tingle ignited at the contact, making him crave more despite the situation. As he drew back, she moaned his name, a hint of yearning mingling with softness.

"I... love you..."

"Oh, Hawke," he groaned, sliding his hand from her neck to trace her pulse. "If only I could claim you."

His breath was hot against the shell of her ear, his lips brushing the warm flesh as he whispered dark, lustful secrets he dare not speak to her conscious form.

"You, sweetling, have no idea how much I ache for you. Every moment in your presence, I have to fight the urge to just pick you up and carry you off to the nearest bed. I would..."

* * *

_Hawke squirms in mock defiance within his embrace, revelling in the contact. Tanned, strong arms hold her fast, his words hot against her neck. Wandering hands rub her shoulder as the man so far from her grasp spoke to her in hushed, licentious tones._

_"- throw you down amongst the pillows and tear away those lacy smallclothes Varric keeps telling me about," he says, smirking into her neck. His imagery grows bolder and dominating._

_"- I might even tie your hands and keep those wicked, magic fingers out of the way of my satisfaction. Have you ever been given pleasure, my love?"_

_A weight winds about her wrists, seeming to bind them together in her lap. Her chest heaves, breasts straining beneath the thin nightgown. Hawke is certain she can feel a hand running along her thigh and she squeezes them together, suspicious as it drifts toward the apex of her legs..._

* * *

Sebastian tried to steady his harsh panting, endeavouring to marshal himself as his hand hovered over her thigh. Even in slumber, she responded to his touch, arousing with each word and stroke. Pleased sounds slipped past her lips, little cries of gratuitous bliss escaping her throat. She licked her drying lips and he resisted the urge to take teasing tongue into his mouth, to kiss her once more. His trousers constricted him, tightening with every confession - these are his undisclosed desires.

The prince imagined her sprawled beneath him, her hair fanned out on a pillow, her body wet and wanton.

"The things I could do to you, to make you scream with just my fingers..."

* * *

_"... It wouldn't take long, I'd imagine," he says, pride colouring his speech. "There haven't been any lovers in your past, or so I've been told - you'd be so beautiful in my hands."_

_Never once does she see his face, her own form stopped in shock, lucid ideas filling in where he ended. She gasps every time she feels his lips brush her ear, melting more and more with every lust-roughened word. New, vivid descriptions poured from her longed-for lover, his own fantasies far more elaborate than her own._

_"...It would only be a matter of time," he growls, a possessive tone overtaking him. "I'm an impatient man, and your own ministrations would undo me, I should think. Sliding between those shapely legs of yours, I'd -"_

* * *

The royal archer stilled with fear, silencing himself as he heard the soft rustling of robes mounting the stairs. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to calm himself, hoping that the darkness would hide his flush and prayed. Being caught while possessed by such a soiled tongue would earn him some unpleasant punishment, of that he was certain. That alone would not dissuade the vows he would break had he continued - how much longer could he have lasted without release?

He bit into his palm, giving himself a focus of pain to distract him.

"Sebastian?"

Grand Cleric Elthina gained the balcony to survey him with a careworn eye. A gentle smile pulled at her mouth, endeared by her charge and the Champion. She was not so blind as to not see the potential between them beyond need.

"Your Grace?" the prince said, standing up and bowing in haste to show her his respect. "What brings you out at this late hour?"

Elthina beckoned him away from the sleeping Champion, whose now incoherent mumbling began to fill the silence. Drawing him aside, Elthina fixed him with a knowing stare, her grey eyes glinting in the half-light. Her charge took a step back, wondering if the Grand Cleric had heard him and whether or not the Maker might strike him down where he stood.

"This tension between the templars and mages only worries me. I pray that the Maker will watch over us in these darkening days. Whatever the case, I've have seen greater men fall beneath the burden of the Champion's mantle," she said, her voice casual and matronly. "The poor girl must be exhausted. I think the Champion might be more comfortable in her own bed, don't you agree?"

Sebastian nodded, his brow furrowing - what was going on?

"See to it then," Elthina commanded as she tried to hide the amusement in her tone. When he turned to leave, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. The exiled prince turned to find her gaze narrowed, a playful smile on her elder visage. "And, my dear boy, don't come back here until you've shown her how you really feel. Believe me, the Maker and His Bride will understand."

Spinning on her heel, the Grand Cleric left the heir of Starkhaven with a humiliated blush rushing across his face, his ears going pink. The older woman had to put a hand to her mouth to mask the mischievous chuckle as she took her leave. A silent prayer ghosted from her lips, a quiet wish for their happiness.

" _Princes are not made for chastity._ "

* * *

_The warmth is gone, his presence vanished. Hawke feels utterly alone, abandoned. She wants to cry, to scream. Above it all, she wants a remedy for the incessant throbbing between her legs._

_It must be a dream, that must be it. Only her mind could torment her so, twisting her desires within the Fade._

_"Maker help me. I need him. I'd give anything to be righteous in selfishness... Yet, it's more than that... I-I love him."_

_Her heart leaps into her throat as she feels him at her side again, his hand heavy on her shoulder. A ruddy flush rises in her cheeks and her breath quickens._

_"Maker, yes," she coos, tilting her head to touch her cheek to the back of his hand. "Please don't leave me again."_

_"Hawke,_ " _the prince calls, his voice rather different from before. It now lacks the passion and covetousness from its brogue. He shakes her, his hold light but commanding._

_"Hawke, you need to wake up," he says again, jarring her more._

_Gritting her teeth, she grows cross - how could he change his tune with such ease? Had he not just been promising her things beyond her own imagination? This is her dream, her own portion of the Fade! The Void take her if this continues without some form of reward._

" _You've been teasing me all this time and I, serrah, will not stand for it..._ kiss me first," she cried aloud, regretting it the moment she spoke. Her eyes fluttered open to find Sebastian staring at her, his face red and perplexed. "Oh, Sebastian, I am so sorry!"

A scarlet streak burned her cheeks as she flung herself off the bench, flailing. Her dream blazed at the forefront of her mind, the memory of his words and his touch wreaking havoc within her. Misfortune favoured her, however, and she tripped over his booted foot to send herself arse over tea kettle towards the floor.

His strong, work-worn hand caught her before she crashed onto the stone tile, drawing her up into his embrace. They stood together, she wrapped in his arms. One small move forward and she could have kissed him, the closeness of him intoxicating. In odd fascination, she watched his long eyelashes lay on his cheek when he closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring in thought and his deep breaths. Yet, Hawke's heart sank as he tore his brilliant blue orbs away from her, casting their gaze to the floor.

"'Tis late," the archer said after a few moments, steeling himself against her and for what he must now do. Surprising her, he took her hand in his and brushed a light kiss to her whitened knuckles. "Allow me to walk you home."

One moment he refused to look at her, the next he bestowed upon her a small, chaste kiss - 'twas madness.

Yet, he left her no room for dispute and she accepted in reluctance, her embarrassment rivalling his own hidden disgrace. Guilt filled her mind as her beloved prince turned her from him. Timid, she trailed behind him with slow steps, rubbing at her hand where his lips had touched. All the while, she wondered what else her unconscious stupidity had wrought. Dear Maker, what had she said or done that made him behold her with such confusion?

Outside the Chantry, the cooler night air greeted them with thickening clouds. Heat lightning flashed, blues and green chasing oranges and reds, lighting the high walls of Kirkwall and their path. The scent of prospective rain filled the weighted air to later fulfill its promise halfway to the estate. Patterns swirled onto wet cobbles and danced before them, turning the stonework a uniform slate-gray.

She almost gasped when he took her hand, the warm palm sending jolts up her arm and down her spine, and pulled her through the increasing storm. Basking in his touch, she let him drag her along through Hightown, squeezing his fingers with minute affection. That single gesture, their hands clasped in nothing more than accord, filled her with unbridled joy. Six years of yearning and she resigned herself to be more than happy to spend even the smallest amount of time alone with the dashing rogue. Even if he chose to be adamant about his vows, she would sigh and accept that disheartening truth.

Spirits sinking, Hawke frowned when they ducked into her doorway, the overhang shielding them from the torrential downpour. She shook her head, watching droplets of water spin off into the night. It saddened her how well ingrained in her mind was the thought of his abandonment, leaving her alone on her own doorstep. It would not be the first time he would leave her with a quickened pulse and reeling mind.

"H-Hawke?" he stammered, searching for the right words. Taking up her hand again, Sebastian kissed the wet skin once more. He then covered her trembling fingers with his other palm, warming the shivering joints.

Why was this so hard?

Sebastian bit his lip, looking out into the storm raging overhead. He prayed that the Maker might forgive him for the lie he was tempted to conjure for the sake of her company. No, she deserved no less than the truth. Moreover, how long would fate favour them until it wrenched them apart?

"Could we speak in private, Hawke? There's something we need to discuss."

Hard blues eyes locked onto her bewildered gaze, sensing her shock and uncertainty. The prince goaded her with another kiss to her tightening grip, hopeful. They remained like that for minutes, her hand in his. Sebastian offered another silent prayer to the Maker, asking for strength and guidance.

Submitting to his request, she said nothing as she pushed open the heavy door and lead him inside her home. Flickering firelight greeted them, the house devoid of any other conscious soul save for Orana. The petite elf bowed to each of them with a demure air, her shy smile belying her actions. Both of them shed rainwater, leaving puddles in the foyer much to the little servant's dismay. Sebastian's quick wit sent the poor girl off to bed with more reassurance, explaining that he and her mistress had no need of her services for the evening and that the water would soon dry. Hawke offered the dazed woman a nod of her agreement, using kind words to usher her away.

"Sebastian?" Hawke queried as the prince pulled her up the stairs. His rain-slick hand squeezed hers, having yet to release his hold, but he did not answer her call.

Striding into the mage's room, Sebastian dropped her hand and turned to lock the door behind them. A devilish smile marred his countenance, realizing that he had earned a rather perplexed look from the woman leaning on her desk. Bathed in the light of her hearth, darkened eyes stared at him in wonderment, her head cocked to the side and a hand on her hip.

With mild interest, the prince glanced at the grand bed, its blankets tucked with precision, the pillows ordered in neat arrangement. How lonely the expanse seemed, never mussed in the throes of passion, never shared. Sebastian made little effort to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, more than willing to tumble between those silk sheets.

"Seb-?"

She received no definitive answer but his wet lips slanting over hers before she could finish speaking his name. Confident steps had brought him before her, his large hands cupping her face. A broad thumb tilted her chin to draw her in and held her fast. Stock-still, she marvelled at how astonishing the fit of his mouth was as it moulded to hers, stealing away her breath. Her lips parting, his rakish tongue sought hers, drawing her in chase.

"The things you say in your sleep, Hawke..." he growled when he paused to take a jagged gasp for air, the words vibrating between their lips. "You tempt, you tease and I am not immune."

His hardened gaze fixed onto hers, lust and need flickering in the depths of vibrant blue. The archer's body bore down on her, his breath hot on her neck. Hawke felt the desk digging into her back, papers scattering from the impact and the prince's hands grazing her sides to grip the edges of the wooden top.

"I never meant any harm - I only wanted to show you that I cared, that being with you meant something. Oh, Sebastian, can you forgive me?" she pleaded, her lower lip quivering. Guilt twisted her features as his countenance offered her no reply.

He hunched over, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Soothing his troubled mind, his beloved mage slipped a hand up his neck, threading her fingers into the dripping auburn locks. Sebastian shuddered with a sharp intake of breath, inhaling the scents of mint and lavender clinging to the hair spilling around her form. Wrapped in silence, the rapid beat of their hearts rushed in his ears over the crackle of the fire.

"By the Golden City, the Maker mocks me - this must be a dream," she mumbled, kissing his temple. "But may He strike for the desire in my heart. Sebastian, I may not ever get to say this but... I love you."

"Dream or not, I dare not have the mind to disagree," Sebastian countered her confession as he graced a hard kiss to her throat, nipping at the pale column. His tone rang with more vigour and zeal than she deigned to believe. "But why should I forgive you? I'd rather savour this. Love makes us do strange things, sweetling.

 _Love?_ Hawke's mind begged her to argue, demanding understanding.

Meeting her eyes, he presented her an expression of yearning and wilful hunger to catch her off-guard once more.

"If you truly love me, Hawke, then give me this night. Only the Maker knows if we ever get this chance again."

All thought evaporated when rough hands gripped her hips, hoisting her onto the top of her desk, scattering haphazard piles of books and sheaves of discarded parchment. A shattering sound tinkled beyond her hearing, a bottle of ink smashing to the floor, but she paid it no heed. Skull cracking against the wall, the mage gasped as her prince gave her a taste of his intent, burning hands pushing the soaking fabric her long chemise up her thighs and pulling them to his waist. Perching her on the hard edge, he ground against her, causing her to twitch in surprise.

"Please, Hawke. I need this and I'm certain that you do as well," he groaned, begging her to submit. "We need this. Allow me to show you how much you mean to me. "

Who was she to disagree?

Leaning forward, she licked a bold and playful line along his own throat and brushed her lips to his ear, whispering her assent.

"As you wish."

Diligent fingers tugged at the laces of her bodice, Sebastian's face split by the devious smirk brought by her approval. Bright eyes, simmering with heaping desire, admired the curve of her breasts, her modesty no longer preserved by the wet, translucent fabric. Undoing the ties, he laughed at her soft cry of relief, freed from the cinch's bind. The chemise lost its hold on her, slipping down tense and freckled shoulders, the lacings loosening further. Ravenous kisses blazed down her neck, trailing along the clavicle and onto her chest. The prince pressed against her, bowing her backward to caress his lips over the swell of her bosom. Damp linen barred him from more and he tore at the dress in impatience, peeling it from his lover's body.

Clad only in her smallclothes, the chemise lying in tatters around her, Hawke felt a shock of dread careen down her spine. She bit her lip, wondering if this was still a dream. The mage shook her head in dismay, but tonight was more than she could ever have imagined. Inexperience and fear be damned, far too distracted by the interest of a relentless exile, who lead her into a spiral to rend her senseless.

Tentative fingers slid from his neck and down his chest to grasp the hem of the royal archer's shirt, rain and sweat staining the cloth. The fabric stuck to his skin, heat radiating from beneath. One last kiss preceded the removal of the garment, her eager lover letting her yank it over his head before taking it from her and casting it into the corner. Tanned muscles rippled under her scrutiny, a scattering of coppery hair glinting in the firelight. Dragging her nails down his chest, placing kisses to the breadth, she touched the low-riding band of his trousers. Capturing his lips again, her hands drifted down even more.

As if stung, Sebastian withdrew his mouth from hers when innocent fingers brushed the hard evidence of his need.

Hurt and panic flashed in the depths of her dark eyes, worry making itself known.

Oh, Maker, what had she done?

"I-I'm s-sorry, I-" she began, stuttering in her alarm.

A mischievous smirk offered her little warning before the prince hauled her off the desk and onto his shoulder. His deep laugh punctured her stammering as she squirmed in his hold. She bounced on the mattress when he threw her down atop the neat bedding, scattering the pillows. Kneeling beside her, the prince stretched a hand over her and ran a wide palm the length of her body, studious in his demeanour. Sebastian denied her garbled protests as he hooked his thumbs on her smallclothes and rid her of all modesty after discarding both garments.

"You are beautiful, sweetling," he said, crawling atop her naked form and pinning the hands seeking to cover her exposed flesh above her head. Worshiping his dear mage with attentive caresses and diligent kisses, he gave her reason to feel worthy and not shy away from him. His tongue swirled around one hardened peak of her breasts, lavishing the pink tip before sharing the gesture with its twin. Kissing her belly and working his way back, the rogue showered her affection before allowing his teeth to mark the tense, stretched flesh of her throat. Capturing her lips in a searing union, he reminded her that she was perfect in his eyes. "Don't you ever forget that."

Slipping a hand between her parted legs, he chanced a quick thrust into her warmth, relishing in her startled cry and the tightness of her. Taking up a measured, simple rhythm, he tested her in concerned preparation for the evening's culmination - the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. His thumb added to his ministrations, tracing circles around her bud to entice a desperate wail from her sweet soprano. Building the woman up, he left her teetering on the precipice, wanting nothing more than to share that moment of bliss.

Hesitant hands reached from him again as she fought through the wave of her unreleased pleasure, touching his face and he kissed her palm. Glancing down his body, her eyes pleaded for his acquiescence as her hands alighted on his trousers once more. Together, they helped him shrug out of the tightened leather and Hawke's flush deepened. Reaching between them, she braved his displeasure and took him in hand, eliciting a guttural moan from the man propped up on his now shaking arms.

"Hawke," he groaned again, rearing up from her shivering form and making her give up her hold. Shadows marked his face, hiding the mixture of hazy lust and honest apprehension. Yet, her ardour quelled the roiling emotions and he settled between her shapely thighs, teasing her with the press of his swollen member. "Tell me you want this, that you love me."

Rising on her elbows, she kissed him hard, her knees clamping onto his sides and sliding him closer.

"I want no one else, Sebastian," she breathed, folding her arms around his neck, the corded muscle tensing. "From the moment we met, there was no other. I love you, you mad prince."

His scorching kiss did not dissuade her pained cry when he hilted himself, the quick thrust an act of mercy. Whispering words of comfort, he stilled his movements for her sake and awaited her approval, one hand caressing her cheek to brush away a tear. Time passed in excruciating slowness, but he continued his vigil, watchful for some signal that she was ready.

Once composed, locking her legs around his waist, Hawke clutched at him and pulled him deeper within her body's embrace. With her consent, he set an undemanding pace. Keeping his strong thrusts slow and steady, Sebastian revelled in her reeling form and the way she undulated around him, responding to every movement and stroke. With each drive, the sense of completion grew and overtook him - this felt so right, so pure.

Reaching his peak, her own climax driving him to the finish as she moaned his name, the prince improved his thrusts. He hitched one trembling thigh higher on his waist and angled himself better, summoning another song of her pleasing cries. Gathering his strength, he made her arch into him, her head thrown back as she accepted all of him, his welcome seed filling her in absolution.

His final kiss upon completion stole the last of her breath, leaving them both panting and shining with the slick sheen of their efforts. Spent of self and energy, the sated prince collapsed to her side, careful to remove himself with tender consideration. Enveloping her in his arms, she curled up at his side, her head pillowed in the crook of his shoulder. Sebastian bestowed her with a charming grin and another lazy kiss before closing his eyes, falling back among the few remaining pillows.

Hawke watched him fade away into satisfied slumber. She knew that she would not partake of sleep during the moonlit hours, afraid that she might awake to find herself alone. What cruel trick of fate it would be to learn that such wonderful occurrence was but a dream.

No, she would cling to the moment with her very soul, digging her bloody nails into it and never releasing her grasp.

* * *

Darkness continued to blanket Kirkwall, early morning's light far from breaking. The woken prince of Starkhaven sucked in a deep, rattling breath as he pondered a rather peculiar, but gratifying dream. Never had he experienced one so lucid, so encompassing... or wanted, for that matter. Hawke meant more to him than he could ever admit, to her or even himself. Remembering the wild look of ecstasy washing over her face, a broad smile pulled on his lips.

Sebastian opened his eyes, too edgy to return to sleep. Maybe he would take a walk in the misty morning air and reflect on his troublesome dream before returning to confess his immoral thoughts.

His brow furrowed, vaguely familiar surroundings greeting his puzzled gaze. Bed curtains hung from the canopy, the Orlesian silk cool his touch. Expecting to find himself alone and wanton in Chantry, the prince was taken aback as he recognized Hawke's bedchamber around him. Growing more and more confused, Sebastian noticed soft, warm fingers tracing patterns on his chest as a body shifted next to him and the illusion of a dream shattered like the fragments of Merrill's eluvian mirror.

"Maker forgive me," he cried, stumbling from the bed. In his haste, he caught himself in the sheets and pulled them off the bed to crash onto the floor. Words spilled from his mouth as he continued to babble, his head afire as he was torn between what was right and what should be. The remnants of sleep addled his thinking, throwing his thoughts in every direction but the proper one. "Oh, Maker, I've forsworn my vows."

He thrashed, trying with little success to disentangle himself from the silken mass.

"Dear Maker, what have I done? Oh, my love, I'm not worthy of you."

Hawke half-lidded gaze tried to hide her tears, peering down at him in distress from atop the bed as she clutched the remaining blankets to her nude form.

"Is that what I am now: a sin that you must atone for?" she said, her sorrowful frown carving deep shadows onto her countenance. "I thought love was enough..."

Her wavering, injured voice trailed off, the sting of her sadness becoming too much.

His heart broke at the sight, beholding her turning away and drawing herself up to hug her knees in despair. Sebastian hesitated before returning to the bed, joining her beneath the covers and gathering her in arms. His thumbs brushed away her tears as he kissed her forehead. His overwhelmed mind endeavoured to make sense of it all. A shade lifted and he realized that Elthina had given him leave to pursue this venture, to pursue his happiness. When he broke with the Chantry to avenge his family, he was no longer bound by her or his vows - they were meaningless. In light of that, she had seen the love between them, hidden in stolen glances and minced words, and had refused him re-entry into the sanctity of the brotherhood - the elder woman's disapproval was his benefit.

"Aye, you're right. Love is apparently enough," he offered, capturing her lips in mending passion. "I think I've already been forgiven by the Maker. It is to you whom I must apologise."

He hovered over her, a serious look spreading across his reddened face.

"I'm sorry, my love. Do you think that you could ever forgive me?"

Words failed to relay her confusion, but her lips assured him that all was pardoned as she drew him down into her embrace. Smirking, Hawke intended to show him that after last night's performance, her beloved rogue would never have to apologise ever again.

The exiled prince's smile broadened as they made love in the dawn hours, comprehending with poignant admiration that his own dreams had just come true. Happiness, wreathed in light within these dark times, had fallen into his hands and he clung to it with a dying man's fervour just as he held onto his beloved mage. Sebastian began to muse of their future but found himself distracted as Hawke used a touch of magic to make him twitch and curl his toes in delight.

Smothering her with a playful kiss, he abandoned the nobler thinking for mindless pleasure - he would ask her about returning with him to Starkhaven tomorrow...

* * *

Unbeknownst to them all, it was unfortunate that fate and a maddened mage had other plans...

**  
_Fin._   
**

  


* * *

**Author's Note:** This sprouted from someone's dream, the one where someone leads you on, only to stop just as the fun is about to begin - you know who you are; although, I think we've all had this dream from time to time, always waking before something interesting happens. Within the SSG, it is a sort of unofficial kinkmeme prompt, not unlike the spanking one, and Lywinis has given me the challenge. So in her words: Challenge Accepted. This is for you, my dear.

I hope it was enjoyable... besides, I needed another break from **_Blessing_**... though, I suppose I should get back to it... at some point...

Any road, I also must thank Lywinis, to whom I present this fic, for continuing to beta and encouraging me even if I'm as stubborn at the prince himself. And, thank you, my readers - you are all wonderful! I love you, my friends!


End file.
